Nightmares of him
by ThisisPorky.exe
Summary: All of the classes are experiencing similar nightmares. And they're all of the same person. Rated M for heavy blood/character death.
1. Engineer

That thing is faster than you, and you know it. You know it's not going full pelt to catch up to your slow ass because it's playing. Playing with you. You're its little toy, now, and it obviously finds _some _ enjoyment in you running away because it hasn't even attempted to slaughter you yet. Instead, you hear its taunting footsteps, its vicious growls, its rabid breathing. All behind you. Yet when you glance over your shoulder with panic filled eyes, you see nothing but emptiness and the walls crawling away as you ran.

You have no idea how long the dark alley-way will go on for, or when it will catch you. You just have to keep running. If you stop, even for a second, it could find you boring, and leap at you, ready to feast. You haven't even said good-bye to your two kids and wife - you are not going to let that happen. Not yet.

You've heard stories of this thing - where it tears its prey's limbs apart while the victim is still alive, breathing, with blood rolling down their face and mouth cracked open to let the last few foggy breaths escape their tortured body. That doesn't look nice. The worst part is hearing the skin tearing, the bones cracking. He didn't even see that on a daily bases at Teu_Fort. Seeing the glee in its eyes, the only time they ever fill with life while hurting another soul. No, that's not a nice way to go, although it may sound awesome.

You're running low on oxygen, but at this point you barely feel yourself breathing. You hear your heart thump loudly in your ears, your footsteps even louder in the alley, echoing between the graffitied walls. Then you hear that howl, right behind you, and that's what makes you speed up. Tears sting your eyes, adrenaline keeps you from knowing the pain in your legs. How do you get away from this thing? You didn't know. You just know to keep running.

You turn a corner, instantly bathed in light from the street-lamp at your left side, but soon stop at a small metal fence. There's a big drop-off to another alley that is filled with card-board boxes and large black bags that look suspiciously like body-bags, all hunched over in a corner but way too far to land comfortably on. If you take the fall, you would break your legs, but would still be mobile, even if it would be slow. You could take the fall and crawl over to the boxes for cover until it's gone. But what would that matter? You would be useless without functioning legs. You would make it easier for it to catch up and make a quick snatch.

But you don't want to stay a-top, either. Already dying and being half-conscious sounded better than being an alive and fully awake meal. You couldn't bear the pain, especially with how slow it tears limbs off from the body. The stories you heard of this thing plummet in your mind, making your stomach turn, and you feel sick rising, stinging the walls of your throat.

From behind, you hear the thumps and growls of it drawing ever closer. It sounds like it has had its fun, and is ready to eat. You turn around to face it, making a decision in your head; one you're not happy with but have no other choice. Better half dead than fully alive for this things satisfaction.

And from the shadows it heaves; its breath in a heavy mist and eyes glowing a deep red. Its clothes are torn, ragged skin showing beneath, and claws extend from its bony fingers. It's all scrawny, like it hasn't eaten for days on end. From its mouth drips red saliva, two sharp rows of teeth visible. And that face. You know the shape of that face. You know every little detail of this being, but not like this. Not like the monster he is now.

You take a step back. You bumped into the metal rails, and it steps out into the bright light provided by the street-light over head. You knew this person, once. He was cocky, arrogant, loud, all in your face and all about himself. But you wouldn't have it any other way. He was your friend, dare you say an adopted son of yours even. You protected him, he protected you and your machines to the best of his ability. Never in your life would you ever think of him like this.

Yet there he stood; tall, angry, and hungry, and you were on the menu. Your precious Scout wasn't here anymore - he'd been replaced with whatever-in-tarnation this thing was. And it broke your heart to even think you would be killed by a teammate - by a friend - by someone you considered another part of your huge family. You could never imagine that.

You two bear off to each other, and you see its lip snarl, baring its blood-stained teeth, a slick tongue lapping over the sharp daggers. It flexed its hands and readied its pounce, hunching over, its back-side wiggling only slightly, never once taking its eyes off you. Does it even remember you?

You wondered if the drop off would be enough to kill you on impact - it was only, what, 10 feet away? If you went backwards, there would be a better blow. There would be no way you were alive - or conscious - by the time it gets to you. You don't want to be. To get ripped apart by your long-time friend was unbearable on its own.

A deep sigh leaves you, which has it confused for a split second.

"_Scout._" Your voice trembles. It was then that you realized you'd been holding your breath, and you take another deep sigh through your nose. Your chest feels tight. It tilts his head, blinking, pupils dilating a little. "_You were a-always a son to me. An' ta think you'd eat me is...somethin' else. I ju-jus' want ya ta know that I don't blame you for this._" You really have no idea what string of sentences are leaving your mouth, or whether it even understands you, but you keep on, anyway.

"_I-I always protected ya, and ya always protected me. Those darn Spies were nothin' against us - hell, I thought me n Pyro made a good team, then you came along and made it that much better! L-look, jus'...I'm proud ta 'ave met ya. I really am._" You swore you saw something flicker in its eyes other than blood-lust - sadness? Anger? You weren't sure. "_Have a fun life, Scout. I 'eard ya kill people jus' as good as ya did before._" You feel a weak smile spread on your lips before you lean your butt on the rails. It still looks as ready to pounce as ever, undaunted by your speech.

With that, you lean all your weight backwards. You feel the wind brushing past you as you fell, and suddenly you hear a tremendous roar from above. In your blurred vision, you see him jumping over the rails, mouth wide open to show off its teeth and a hand stretched out, reaching out to grab you while still screaming at the top of its lungs-

* * *

><p>He snapped out of bed, a cold sweat running down his face and heavy pants leaving his tight chest. His eyes were wide and alert, head darting around the room, as if looking for a hiding monster.<p>

But he saw nothing but darkness and the blinking lights of his alarm clock on the bed-side table await him. The time read 5:46am. There was no point going back to sleep, now.

He swung his legs over the bed, his head a little dizzy as the drowsiness settled back in him. He rubbed his fore-head and grabbed his hard-hat that was at the end of the bed, plopping it over his bald head. He left his sleeping quarters and headed straight to his work-shop to preoccupy his mind for a little while - to try to get rid of the images.

Then, he saw him. At least he wasn't as scary as he was in the dream - just a normal young kid, with normal eyes and normal hands and normal teeth.

'Hey, Hard-'at...' He greeted sleepily, voice on the verge of yawning, his hair a fluffy mess. His eyes were droopy and he had an over-sized red coloured shirt on. Engineer paused a little before nodding his morning back and quickly hurried along down the hallway. Of course Scout was a little confused about why the Texan had suddenly gone as pale as a sheet and looked scared for his life, but he was far too tired to be asking questions yet.

Engineer wondered if the plucky Boston would turn and start chasing after him again. He then thought against that idea so he didn't suffer a heart-attack, shaking his head to get rid of the images now flooding his clouded mind.

He hated that nightmare with a burning passion.


	2. Heavy

You were in a room, with two entries on both the left and right side. You don't really remember how you got there, or why you're there, but you do know that, if you leave, you're dead. A thing is after you is the last thing you remember, and this is the only room where you're safe. In fact, as memory hits you, this is the only room in the building.

On the molded walls are posters of famous 1960's baseball players you didn't know of. There's a desk right in front of you where various things were scattered on its scratched wood, like pens, yellowed paper, a baseball hat, and a base-ball. There's a baseball bat in the corner, now that you look at your surroundings, and you instantly reach for it. You know you could fight it off with your bare hands, but you decide against that. You know it can rip your arms off your body; it can probably break this wooden bat, too, if it really wanted too.

You hear a deep laughter echoing down the hallway, and your heart jumps. Why were there no doors to close? You shuffle backwards, and fall into a chair. It's better to sit down, actually, because it somehow calms your frazzled nerves. The laughing is getting louder, which must mean it's getting closer to where you are.

"_Where are you?_" You hear an amused but faint voice call out, footsteps also picked up. Oh god, these hallways are so sensitive - every little sound and you can hear it. Your eyes dart from left to right, and all you see is the seeping darkness come in from the outside. There were no lights other than inside this room, and even them were flickering on and off in quick bursts of energy. That didn't make you any more calm.

"_I know you're here somewhere._" It says again, still with the same level of amusement in its voice. If it wasn't for your huge mass, you would find an easy spot to hide in the corner or something. Even if it showed you off, it still felt like hiding.

"_I wanna plaaaaay~!_" So badly do you want to reply, but you know that will give you away. And if you give yourself away, you're done for. The stories you've heard for this thing resurface in your mind. About how it rips people apart and toys with them and laughs at their misfortune.

The footsteps get louder, closer to where you are. You panic and cover your mouth with one hand to stop the whimper's from leaving you, your other clutching the bat for dear life. Your whole body is shaking, and you know you're doomed with the fortune of death. There's no way you can out-run this thing, and that's the part that stings the most because you know that. Actually, no, that's not the part that stings the most.

It's knowing who this monster is that is the most painful.

That voice was the lightest you'd heard while being a killer. You wouldn't think that a voice like that belonged to such a person in such a place like Teu_Fort, even when he cursed and yelled as much as he did. You'd think he was a normal teen doing normal stuff a teen does, but nope, he was a killer. Both a killer and a mindless monster. You know it's not his fault, he just...snapped. Somehow 'turned'.

The footsteps stop, but you're more than wary to think you're in the clear. Everything is silent on the outside, but on the inside your heart is thumping so loud it's in your ears. It's almost deafening.

Then you see it. Two red glowing eyes, staring directly at you. And you know who they belong to. Sweat forms and runs down your forehead, and your bottom lip quivers, both paws now gripping at the bat, so hard that your knuckles turn white, and you think the wooden bat is about to crack from the pressure. You know you shouldn't be scared - that you could go down with a tremendous fight. But you can't help it. You can't fight this thing because you once knew him. Sure, he was annoying, loud, ruthless, but he was your friend, and even though he didn't admit it, he was close to you. You both protected each other and both helped heal small wounds when you were both too nervous to go to Medic, and you were both too embarrassed to talk about it after.

"_Hey, there, buddy~!_" It says, voice now crackily and demonic than it was before, yet still playful enough to come across as innocent. You saw him at the left side of the hallway, just faintly. "_I've looked everywhere for you! You did a good job 'a hidin', but I finally found ya~_" The light flickers on and off more intensely, and you press your back to the chair. It moves closer until it's right in the door-way, and you see its whole body. You just want to cry, but you bite your lip and continue to clutch at the bat.

He looks just like normal. If you didn't count the red eyes, extremely sharp teeth, and a bloodied face. From his eyes and mouth ran red, as if he'd been crying blood. Covering his hair was a red hood, and you could tell the difference between the red cotton on the hoodie and the splashes of blood now on it. Some were crisscrossed, others were just simple dots and splotches, everywhere on the front of the hoodie.

"_Aw, whats the matter? Ya looked scared out of your mind! Like ya seen a ghost or somethin'!_" It chuckled, stepping further in to the light, showing more of its bloodied state. Its bandaged hands were covered in the red liquid, and the sharp smile was growing on its stained face.

"_G-get avay fr-from me...!_" You stuttered, but it just chuckled again, its bottom jaw some-what extending.

"_Why? I only want to play. Come pl͏a͏͡y̴ ͏wì̶t͏h ͠͡m̸͘͞e̢҉;͟͞ we͘ ̸̴c͡a͜͡n̸̕ ͝p͘͡l̶͡a̸͢ỳ̕͠ ̸͞ba̷s̢e̸̢͘b͘a̶l̨̀͝l ͢o̕͏r̢ ͟s̵͜͝o̢ḿét͢h̛i̵̛n̢͏̵'͠҉͠."̷͠_

A loud scream was heard echoing around the room as it leaped forward in a sudden burst of speed-

* * *

><p>He awoke with a short scream, flying out of the bed. He panted in quick bursts, body shivering from what he assumed to be fear. A cold sweat ran down his fore-head, and with a shaky hand he wiped it away. Oh, god, what was that? A nightmare involving Scout? He's never been that sacred in his life - not as bad as that one time he swore he saw a ghost, anyway. God damn, that was horrible.<p>

Shaking his head and sighing in relief it wasn't real, he looked at the clock. The little red numbers read 5:46am. He swung his legs over the bed and got up, putting on his black jacket over his red shirt and pulling up his trousers. He could easily forget the nightmare - it wasn't real, after all. And it can't become real. There was nothing to be scared of anymore.

As he walked out into the hallway to retrieve his breakfast, he saw Scout appear coming from the opposite direction. But he was wearing a red hoodie, with the hood up.

The bear froze in his tracks, watching at the boy with an intense stare. On the front were noticeable marks on black, some going crisscrossed while others were simple dots and splotches. Scout stopped dead when he saw the Heavy staring at him, and it made him uneasy.

'...Uh, whats up, man?' He asked, tilting his head. Luckily his bandaged hands weren't covered in red liquid, and no blood was running from his face, and his eyes were the normal bright blue colour, and his teeth were normal human teeth, and his voice was the normal Boston one. No demonic or crackily traces in it.

'...N-nothing, vhere did you get hoodie from?'

'Oh, 'a found it in the storage place. 'A think it was jus' shipped in. It's a lil' baggy but it's awesome!' It did look rather baggy on him - the bottom and pockets looked large. '...I think there's more in there if ya want one - pretty sure they 'ave ya size. It's a little dirty, though, so it might need a wash.'

The two stayed still for a moment before Heavy hurried down the hallway with a quick nod to the kid. Staying in his place as the Russian turned the corner at the end of the corridor, Scout stared at the space the Heavy was just in. Weird - he was the second person to do that. Look scared and turn pale when they saw him and then hurry off.

Shrugging to himself, he simply stuffed his hands deep in to the pockets and head on his way to his room, whistling a gentle tune in his tracks.


	3. Medic

You were locked inside a white-washed room, with no signs of escape in sight; there was no door to leave and no windows to climb out of. You were scared - hunched over in the corner, holding your knees close to your chest, panicked breathing leaving your pained chest. You weren't sure why you hurt everywhere, but at this point you didn't really care.

As you look around, you notice the walls are padded. Opposite you is a neatly made bed, and hanging down from the ceiling is a light-bulb, its glow casting across the room. It was a small room, and no one else beside you and the bed were trapped inside.

Or so you thought.

You hear another sound other than your beating heart and panicked breathing; the sound of cloth rustling. Your eyes dart to the bed, where you see a lump inside the sheets form. You keep your eyes on it, even as the light suddenly cuts out. As they switch back on, you barely even notice the red splashes now on the walls, splashed out into sentences. The lump is still in the bed, you see, and it's still moving. Who is in there? You just don't know.

You finally notice the walls. One reads "_Help_", while another reads "_Trapped_". They bare resemblance to you as you're trapped and need help out of here. Right above the bed it reads "_I'm Sick_". You are not sick. At least you think you're not. The lump inside the bed slowly shifts into a sitting position, but it remains unknown to who is in the bed. You want to speak out and ask, see if you get a response, but your throat is dry and nothing past a squeak makes it past your lips. You find that you can't move, either - it's like you're stuck against the walls back, someone holding you there, forcing you to stay. Your shivering grows as the lights cut out again.

When they regain their brightness, you see the sheets are suddenly standing. You can see their shoes at the bottom, which are black with white strips at the side, and you swear you've seen them somewhere before on someone you knew. Other than your own panicked breathing, you hear something from under the sheets.

They take a small step forward, closer to you. You simply hold your legs, unable to do anything more. You watch as whoever it is draws closer to you, the sheet proving not to blind them. When they're right in front of you, they slowly bend down so they're eye-to-eye with you. The sheet still blocks out their face, but you can hear deep breathing from underneath.

"_Hey, Doc._" Their voice is light-sounding and slightly wheezing, but male. He actually has a Boston sounding accent, too."_I'm sick_." The whiteness of the sheets covering their face suddenly goes red as a coughing sound is heard from underneath. His head bobs forward as the red seeps down and spreads out over the cotton."_I'm...sick..._" He says again, voice heavily dull this time around."_H-have you got any pills...? I need some, I've not b-been sleeping very well._"

You honestly have no idea what he was talking about, so you shake your head, never taking your eyes off the growing red spot."_...N-no pills?_" Again you shake your head. Who the hell is this person; where were they trapped in? Why was this happening? "_Oh...th-that's a shame, then. I'm really sick, and sleep would b-be nice right about now_." A bandaged hand comes from under the sheet, gripping at the stained cotton and pulling it from over his head. He drops it in front of you, and you finally see his face.

You instantly wished he covered his face again.

Where his eyes should have been were two black holes, blood running down his cheeks. Heavy black bags hung under his eyes, rings further darkening the holes, his skin deathly pale."_Can't you see I-I'm sick? I need those pills now, Doc - you're the only person I know that does t-them that actually works on me_." His face begins to glitch, as does his voice, and you can feel your eyes beginning to tear up. You knew this person - that head shape and slender shoulders weren't hard to put a name to. Just...what the hell had happened with his eyes? Were they still there, but had just turned as black as the night, or had they been gorged out? Why was blood running down his face, and why was he talking about something he didn't have or prescribe to him? What had happened to him?

He smiled gently at you, blood running from the corner of his mouth."_C-come on, Doc, ya know I can't sleep without 'em. You know that_." The light flickers on and off, and you see in the small moments of light his face. Its jaw is stretched out, sharp teeth seen inside its mouth, and a tongue with red saliva is sticking out. Its eyes are still staring at your soul, and you can feel your skin crawling.

"_COM̵E̢ ͠O̷͡͠N̢̧,͠͞ ̛D͏́OC͏̡̛,́͘ ̴͡I ̸̢͡K̶̨ N͟OW ̵Y̷͢O̴U̕ H̸͠A̴̡V̴͡É̷ ͏̴'ĘM͘͡,̨ ̀J̛͟US͜'͢͟ G̴IV͠E̕ ̴̛T͘͢Ḩ̀E̡̛M̢҉ ͝T͘͢O̵̷̴ ̛͘͠M͏̴͟E̕ ̴͟ÀN̢D҉̴ ̷̶I̧̛ ͘̕W̧Ǫ̵́N͟͜'̡T ̸́DO̧͘ ̀ÁN͢͢YT͘H̨I̵N̶̸G ̡͜T̛́Ờ ̶̕͘YOƯ̶̛_." It says, more demanding than before, voice on the verge of breaking. It sounded like it was Satan itself, which makes you cry out. The noises around you are deafening, sounds of screaming and crying and panicked muttering heard from every angle of the room, this thing making it no better to contend with the sounds.

You clutch at the sides of your head with shaking hands and pray for it to all stop and go away. You never asked for this. You never wanted this. You've done nothing to deserve this.

You look at it again, and see that its mouth is wide open, baring its sharp teeth, head twitching and shaking like an angry monster-

* * *

><p>His eyes snapped open to the bright and cold world around him, a cold sweat running down his forehead. He panted, staring at the ceiling, seeing the streaks of sun-light going across. They strained at his eyes but he was in too much of a state to even consider closing them against the harsh burn. A nightmare? He hadn't had one of those for a long time. That one was a bite in the arse. And he hoped he never had to witness one like that again.<p>

Sighing, he finally closed his eyes, seeing white spots behind the lids. He then found himself chuckling, the sight of his team-mate flashing in his mind from the recent memory. Gorged out eyes bleeding blood. That was a new sight from the disembodied limbs sprawled out on the battlefield and on his medical table, the sight he usually saw. It shocked him so much that it scared him to his core. He was going soft.

After sighing a little, he leaned up and rubbed his eyes. The clock read 5:46am, not an unusual time for him to wake up at. It was usually earlier when he awoke. He swung his legs over the bed and headed to the door, brushing down his night-shirt. As he left, he went to the bathroom and got ready, and then began his journey to his infirmary to begin early work.

When he got there, he had a visitor sitting on the bed, with his head in his un-bandaged hands. Who it was sent those same images from the dream to flash in his head, replacing his real face with the dreams sights. They only intensified when the visitor lifted his head to look at him.

'...Oh, hi, Doc...'

'Scout...? V-vhat are you doing here - is everything vell?' He certainly didn't look well. Under his eyes were heavy bags, rings circling around his dull blue specks. His skin looked pale, like he haven't eaten or rested in months. It was such a close picture to what Medic saw, and it was sending chills down the Germans spine.

'R-remember those pills you gave me? The ones ta 'elp me sleep?' Dumbly Medic nodded, remembering that memory. 'I-I ran out last night, an' I didn't sleep at all... I-I think I might be sick... C-can I 'ave some more?'

What he was saying was so closely related to his dream, but he just shuck it off as nothing. His curiousness was peaked, but there was nothing he could do about it. It's not like the boy had control over his dreams - that's inhumanly impossible. '...Ja, j-ja, you can...'

After Medic gave the boy a bottle of pills to help him sleep, Scout yawned and rubbed his eyes. He really did look dreadful, and the German dove lover had only seen this twice in the fourteen months they'd been working there. He said his thanks and left in a slow pace, a hand clutching at the bottle while the other held his head. Medic watched as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and that picture of his gorged out face continued to haunt his mind.

He didn't know why it sent such fear to flow through him so much. But it did. And that's what scared the man the most.


	4. Pyro

_**hey guise, just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the nice feed-back! it really motivates me in completing things, so thanks for that xD i didnt think it would get as big as it has - it was only one thing to begin with that i decided to expand out of bordem. but i thank you any-how! have a fantastic day you lovely people! **_

* * *

><p>You'd never lost him before. Never in your life. You always kept a close eye on him no matter where you were. At school? Safely tucked away in your school bag. At work? Locked away in your room. But now, you had no idea where he was at - he wasn't in any bag you looked in and he wasn't in any room you walked in to, so where the heck was he hiding? Was he playing hide-and-seek again? He had done this a few times before, and you were always thrown in to a panicked state, but you always found him in the most darnest of places, like the washing machine or the drier. At least he was safe and, more importantly, out of harms way. If Spy ever found him alone, god only knows what he'd do to him to get him back in spite. You didn't know why getting sprayed in rainbows was a bad thing - you wouldn't mind it yourself.<p>

But now, after looking everywhere around the base, you were on the verge of crying. He could be anywhere, and you weren't there for him, to tell him everything is alright and that he's safe. He could be un-fire or being tortured by the other team for all you know. Oh, where is he? Your world wasn't as full with rainbows and happiness when he wasn't around.

No other human being was around, either. You had no one to ask to see whether they had seen your best friend, and that made you worried. Where the hell had everyone else gone? Were they playing hide-and-seek, too?

But then you saw him as you turned a corner. He was just standing out in the hallway, with something in his bandaged hands. You sigh with joy at seeing at least someone still here, but then fill up with curious aura and slight concern. Somethings not right. His hat is over his eyes, not looking up; you see a twisted smile on his lips, and he's clutching something really tightly. ...Wait, that was your friend he was holding! He'd found him!

All the worry instantly fades as you skip over to him, glad to finally see your old pal safe and sound again. You would give him such a lecture not to run off like that again - you'd nearly had a heart attack!

"_Hey, buddy!_" He said, turning his full attention to you, showing your friend to you more clearly. "_I found 'im in my room; found it weird he wasn't with you. I was jus' returning him to ya._" You nodded eagerly, clapping your hands a little, and you stepped forward, ready to claim your friend back. You were so close to holding him again, but then he took a step back just as you reached out for him. You tilt your head, obviously confused. What was he doing? You watched as he drew your friend closer to his chest, one hand holding his body while the other went to his head. What was he...?

"_He's been naughty - have you seen the mess he's made in my room? My posters are down and my bed-side tables been knocked over! And it wasn't like that when I left this morning._" You instantly feel panicked when you saw the hand over your friends head slowly turn white from how tightly he was holding him. "_I don't like that, you know? Your friend thinks he can do as he pleases, but he can't._" As you look up at his face, you see that sadistic smile plastered to his lips, his buck-teeth showing. His eyes are still shaded by his hat, but you can sense the anger radiating from him. "_So I'm gonna teach him a lesson._"

That's when he did it. He just twisted his head, the stitches ripping, and it suddenly popped off his body. White stuffing leaked out of the top, and there was nothing you could do but stay paralyzed and watch.

"_Ahhh - that's better! Maybe that'll teach 'im not to go in to my room and mess with my stuff._" His voice was so dark as he dropped your friend to the floor, his head bouncing on the concrete, body falling limp. You fall to your knee's as he walks away, a dark chuckle heard leaving his throat. Tears well up behind your mask, and your breathing gets heavy as you stare down at his mangled body. Anger wells up inside your chest, your gloved hands squeaking to fists. No one messed with your friend and got away with it. Not when they did it right in front of you, either.

You grab your axe that had suddenly appeared next to you and spring to your feet, rushing at him with your weapon raised. Your vision was so blurry that you didn't notice the walls bleed red and black. As you drew closer to him, you heard nothing but the sound of your own labored breathing inside your mask, and as you swung at him everything faded to black-

* * *

><p>He awoke with him flinging out of bed, his arms raised in a chopping motion and an angry cry leaving his throat. He continued to chop at the air for a few seconds before finally peeking an eye open. ...Oh. He was in his room. But that didn't drown his worry. Where was he?<p>

His head snapped around the room in frantic search of him, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Not a-top his bed-side table, not at the end of his bed or beside him, no where on the floor. Oh no...what if that thing had him? Muffled cries escaped past his gas-mask as he slipped out of bed in blind panic, the tiredness of the morning not affecting him, and he quickly pulled on his thick rubber suit to protect his identity and the cold bite outside. He ran full pelt out of the door, still mid-way pulling his boot on. He never noticed that his little broken clock read 5:46am.

He would never forgive himself if something bad were to happen to him - especially something bad done by another team-member. He needed to hurry before he allowed that person time to do anything.

He just ran out into the hallway when he saw him in the middle of it, having just left a room with something in his bandaged hands. It was pink, and looked soft. And it was his friend.

'H-hudda! Hudda huh!' He cried with a pointing finger, pointing at the boy. Scout turned and looked at him, a smile flashing on his face. At least he could see his eyes, and his smile wasn't twisted, either.

'Hey, buddy! I found 'im in my room; it's strange he's not with you, though. I was jus' gonna return-' Scout was stopped short by the fire-bug marching over to him and snatching the pink Balloonicorn plush out of his hands. He huddaed an angry warning that would have been taken seriously if not for the mask blocking his speech. He petted down the plush's cotton fur before giving the best stare he could manage to the Boston, and then rushed off back to his room to return his friend to where he rightfully belonged.

Scout just stood there, hands still hovering in the air holding nothing and a confused glance across his face.

'...The hell was that about?'


	5. Spy

_**i had fun with this one. based off of "Sawrunner" from Cry of Fear. it's a gud gam you should check it out**_

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><p>You were running. Running as fast as your little legs would allow you. You could hear their heavy footsteps directly behind you, which only made you speed up. You could hear its panicked breathing bouncing off the walls, but it didn't register in your mind that they were in distress. It just urged you to keep running.<p>

Many corners awaited you, all of which you turned and followed. As you proceeded down the corridors, you heard hushed voices. From where, you weren't exactly sure, but you desperately wanted them to stop.

"_You're sick_"

"_Wake up_"

"_Why won't you die? Just...die..._"

"_Go away_"

"_Do you enjoy this?_"

The panicked breathing got louder, as did the foot-steps. You cried out as you skidded to a stop - a dead-end. Only when you turned around to face your chaser, you saw no one there. The voices still spoke, but their were no foot-steps to be heard. You felt like you were going crazy; you rose your gloved hands to your masked head, clutching at the fabric, eyes wide with insanity and panic. How do you get out of this place? How did you even manage to get trapped here? The walls are so close together - it was enough to send panic straight to your thumping heart. Enclosed spaces were never good with you.

"_Run_"

"_He's behind you_"

"_You'll never make it_"

"_This is where you die_"

"_You're getting what you've always deserved_"

"_Now you'll die for sure_"

The sentences made no sense to you, nor did you find the origin of where they were coming from. There were brick walls and a high ceiling either side and on top of you, where the voices echoed down the plaster and brick. Were they in the walls? That was a stupid idea.

Suddenly, from behind you you hear a tremendous crash. The sound of a chainsaw wurring is enough to snap you out of your mental state, and it has you turning on your heel to see what just happened. A hole is in the brick wall, plaster and pieces of brick scattered on the floor. And, standing there with a chainsaw in their bandaged hands, was a person.

Much of this person was hidden - they wore a mask with a happy smile and black eye-holes glued to its plastic, but you knew they were male by his body type. He wore a red shirt, baggy brown trousers, and black shoes. Dog-tags hung around his neck, as well as a black bag, where you saw yet another sharp weapon hanging out. He was splashed in blood, from the mask down to his socks - he was covered in the stuff. He wurrs the engine of the bloodied chain-saw up, and if you hadn't had jumped back, you would have been sawn in half.

"_Run_" the voices echo with demanding urgency, and you take their advice. You turn around and start running like you've never ran before down the hallway, panting, tears blurring your vision. From behind you, you hear the chain-saw roar, fast foot-steps gaining on you. You weren't gonna be fast enough.

You barely had time to notice the walls itch with blood, a horrible oozing sound as if someone was fishing through someone's slashed-open body echoing down the hallway. All you could hear was your own panting and his foot-steps, the voices fading into nothing.

The route you first took remains the same, right until the end. Unless you're not thinking straight, you don't remember this part being a dead-end. There was nowhere to climb over; the wall was just straight up into the nothingness. No doors were on either side of the wall. You were trapped.

You stopped yourself before you crashed in to the red wall. You turned around to face him, where he screamed around the corner, his weapon in hand, ready to slash at you. As he stalked his way over to where you stood, backing into the wall with wide eyes and an open mouth, you watched it tilt its head. It was amused at your little wimpy display, it seemed. The voices soon started to rise in pitch again, and as it stood right in front of you, you heard them say

"_You're done for_"

"_You deserve this_"

"_This is your __punishment_"

"_Are you happy now?_"

Your chest heaved in and out as you watched him rise the chain-saw over his head. You watched as he sliced the chain-saw right at your throat-

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><p>A shrill scream was heard coming from his room before it was quiet again. From his bed was the Spy, in a puddle of his own cold sweat and eyes as wide as plates. Luckily he heard no voices, no panicked breathing and no wurring of chain-saws. He wasn't in a thin corridor, but in his bedroom. And there were no freaks with masks better than his own chasing him. Yes, as everything should be.<p>

The time flashed 5:46am. He was usually up later than this, but there was no point going back to sleep, now. He didn't want to go back to sleep in fear he saw that...thing again. He saw enough freaks with working here, he didn't want to add to that list with his own unconscious mind.

After sorting himself out - washing and covering his face with his mask before dressing in one of his fine red suits - he left and headed over to the kitchen. His shoes tapped gently against the cool floor, a gentle breeze ran though the hallways. Everything was calm.

Before he heard that sound.

It was the muffled sound of a chain-saw, being fired up from somewhere. Suddenly, from his right side, a door was kicked open. Had Spy been a few feet closer, he would have been smashed by the wooden projectile. The Spook jumped several feet in the air, a shrill scream leaving him for the second time that morning. From the room left a figure, holding a roaring chain-saw in their bandaged hands. And as Spy looked at them, he was sent back into that zone of panic he was very rarely encased in.

Much of this person was hidden - they wore a mask with a happy smile and black eye-holes glued to its plastic, but the Spook knew they were male by his body type. He wore a red shirt, baggy brown trousers, and black shoes. Dog-tags hung around his neck, as well as a black bag, where he saw yet another sharp weapon hanging out. He was splashed in blood, from the mask down to his socks - he was covered in the stuff.

'No...' Was all he uttered as he took a step closer, in a stance ready to attack. Smoke bellowed out of the side of the orange chain-saw, the sharpened metal spinning at a fast rate. If that hit you, it would hurt like the burning pits of hell. As the Spook took a step back, he took a step forward. But then, he lowered the chain-saw, suddenly switching it off. Silence reigned over the pair, and as the weapon was lowered, a bandaged hand rose to un-cover his face. From underneath sat a bright, beaming smile and a young face.

'Yo, Spy!' He said cheerfully, standing at his full stance. Spy did not calm down. He didn't even realize he'd been holding his own breath until the boy spoke. 'Do ya like my Halloween-costume? Pretty neat, huh! My Ma shipped in the mask n chain-saw and I did the rest up - pretty handy how Pyro had some fake-blood laying around!' He chuckled, looking over the chain-saw before turning his gaze to the French men. Scout raised a brow, seeing his pale face and wide eyes, his chest heaving in panic. '...Uh, Spy?'

'...'

Scout was half-expecting the frog to yell at him for nearly giving him a heart-attack; something he had aimed for. But he didn't expect him to be...this terrified. '...Yo, man, you awright? You don't look so good - did I scare ya that bad?' He got no response. Instead, all he got was Spy taking a deep, shaky breath, and then leaving. He headed down the hall-way and turned the corner, leaving Scout to shrug gently and cover his face back up with the bloodied mask.

Spy secretly thanked that he had gone to the bathroom first before going anywhere else.


	6. Demoman

_**holy fucking shit tits - you dont know how much i love you lot. like i know i dont say this very often but the support you guys have given me is - aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA LET ME HUG YOU ALLLLLLLLLLLLL this wasnt really supposed to get as popular as it has but i thank you all the same because its really nice and just yeah thanks**_

_**i admit this isnt isnt my best chapter, simply because im out of ideas xD so sorry for the crapness. but, uh, enjoy all the same! continue being awesome people you tiny things!**_

_**EDIT 25/9/14: i've edited this just a bit. it was bugging me**_

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><p>"<em>Whats the matter, buddy? You look scared.<em>"

You shuck as you clutched your head, crouching in a ball and trying to hide your eye from his gaze. You couldn't get stuck in them again - you'd lose your mind if you did. His face was terrifying; his voice denomic; his eyes possessive and scary. He was scaring the living shit out of you, and there was nothing you could do to stop him. Anything you tried to do, he put a stop to with one glance of those eyes.

"_Why won't you look at me? Have I done something wrong?_"

He was mocking you, now. Who wouldn't? You were literally on the floor, shaking in fear, holding at your head to try to drown out the creeping insanity inside your head. His voice was dripping with joy, and that joy was because he'd made you into a shivering mess. God, it was awful. You weren't used to this - if anything, it was you who made someone quake in their boots, not the other way around. Someone had to be extra intimidating to get you in a ball, crying for your Mum.

"_Come on, man - I'm only here to give you the scrumpie you asked me to bring. And now you're acting like a baby?_" He chuckled darkly as he loomed over you, and as you peeked your eye up, you saw one of his bloody clawed hands on his slender hips, the other hanging by his side. It clutched at the brown bottle of scumpie. "_Just take the frickin' thing so I can go back to sleep, ok?_" Maybe it was just a trick. Maybe it was too early in the morning and you were still drunk from yesterday, your mind was playing evil with you. There was no way he actually looked like that - it would be stupid if he did! He was normal looking. He had to be. This was all just one big hallucination, one you could easily control. Yeah, no need to lose your mind over nothing.

So you gathered enough courage from the air and took a deep, shaky breath. You nodded to yourself and slowly began to draw your gaze upwards. All that hope from before instantly drained the moment your eye clapped with his.

His eyes were wide and bleeding, red liquid leaked from his mouth and stained his buck-teeth, a maniacal smile glued to his smeared face. The red liquid spread to his shirt, where it stained the up-most of his torso and trickled down his front. The worst part where he was stained was his right shoulder, where his arm was coated in the stuff. Cuts were slashed on his right arm, blood leaking from the open wounds, and it made you sick to look at. His eyes were the worst, though - they were a shimmering green, yet were ruined by the blood heading down his cheeks. Was it his own? Was it someone else's? These were the questions you didn't know the answer to. Did you want the answer to them?

You felt too paralyzed with fear to move, let alone look away. He stared right at you, smiling, baring his blood-stained teeth, and you could feel your sanity itch away. He tilted his head, that smile not fading away. If anything, he looked pleased that you were so scared. "_Whats the matter? It looks like you've seen a ghost!_" You watched with horror as he bent down to your level, holding the scrumpy tightly in his hand. He continued to tilt his head, snapping sounds in his neck heard. You felt like you were going to puke, the noises were so disgusting. "_Just take the scrumpie so I can go back to bed. I'm tired. And I feel a little sick, too._" He held the bottle out for you to take, and you just switched from him to the bottle then back to him. Was it a trick?

You saw something suddenly snap inside him as you refused to take his offer. His bottom jaw extended, making you scream. He rose the bottle high in the air before swinging it down-

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><p>His eye snapped open to the harshly bright world around him. As soon as he made contact with the real world, he groaned in pain and rose a hand to block out the harsh light. Instantly, behind his closed eye-lid flashed his bloodied face, only sending a shock of fear through his chest. God, he'd never thought he'd see that kid as terrifying as he did in that horrible dream.<p>

He was surprised that the only thing he gained a head-ache from was the bright sun and not last nights scrumpie. He guessed he was that used to it.

Throwing himself out of bed, he guessed he'd have to start the day as normal and discard of the image. It surly wouldn't show up, again - he hoped to god it didn't. As he dressed in his normal wear, he noticed the clock read 5:46am. He was up a lot later than this - usually at 9, just in time for the battle to start. It amazed him how much the nightmare had shocked him - so much so that he even woke up a lot earlier than usual.

He lumbered out of his room and made his way to the kitchen to retrieve his morning drink. But then, as he entered the hall-way that lead to his desired place, he walked out. The first thing the black cyclops noticed was the bottle of scrumpie in his right bandaged hand, but they weren't clawed. And no blood stained his front. There were also no open slashes on his arm. He looked like the normal Boston Scout he always knew.

'Oh, hey Demo.' He greeted in a tired voice. Why was he welding a bottle of scrumpie? He didn't drink it, now, did he? The Scottish stopped dead in his tracks, his one eye scanning the slowing down Boston. '...Hey, buddy, you...uh, alright? You look scared...' His eye fell to the floor as Scout came to a stop, a shiver running down his spine. 'Have I done somethin' wrong-'

'Why have ya g-got a bottle 'a sc-scrumpie, lad?'

'You...you asked me ta bring you a bottle 'a scrumpie to ya in the mornin' cause you were gonna sleep in.'

'...'A did?'

Finally, he looked up at the boy, and was thankful to see his face not twisted with blood. His lips weren't in a wide smile, and he looked normal. He was right in front of the bomb expert, now, with a brow raised. 'Come on, man, jus' take the frickin' scrumpie so I can go back ta bad.' He sounded inpatient. Thankfully his voice wasn't dripping with joy or mockery. With no more than a word, Demo took the scrumpie from the boy. The Boston said his good-bye and jogged off back to his room to get some more rest, ignoring his pale face and shaking hands.

The image of his twisted face flashed inside his head, but he just shuck it away, opened the bottle and took a long swig of it. After all, beer made everything better over time. It certainly discarded of horrible dreams and pictures.


	7. Soldier

You saw him sat on the deck, with his legs gently swinging over the edge and bandaged hands clutching at the wood. As you tilted your head, he turned and looked at you. His normal blue eyes were replaced with black holes, blood running down his cheeks, but as much as the picture threw you off, you still approached him. Curiosity was at its peak with you - what was he doing out here on his own? At such a time, as well?

He continued to stare at you - you thought, at least - but then he just turned his head back to the view cast out in front of you. The view was nice - the sun was setting over the mountains, casting orange, red and yellow hues to be spread across the land, making it look like the world was on fire. It wasn't exactly dark yet, but it was turning blue at a slow pace.

The two of you didn't say anything, and you slowly drew up behind him before taking your place next to him. He remains quiet, simply staring into the changing void. Of course, his gorged out eyes freaked you out, but there was no need for alarm since he wasn't attacking you. Of course you would be ready to attack if needs be. And he still looked pretty normal else-where. He was still your plucky team-mate, as far as you were concerned.

For the next few minuets, as the colours turned to blue and black, it remains silent between the two of you. It's actually rather nice. From the corner of your eyes, you see him move a little. He has his hands held together in his lap, as if he's thinking of something. His legs stop swinging in the air, staying motionless on the wooden deck.

"_Sure is a nice night, huh?_" He says, voice crackily but other-wise normal. It was like he was talking out of a radio.

"_Yeah, it is._" You reply back, keeping your eyes on the finishing sun-set.

"_It̴'̶s a ̢t̢ra̢p_"

"_Ge͠t̷̢͡ ̢͝ąw̵͘a͘͢͠y͜ f̧̕͡ŕom͞͞ h̷̨́ȩ͢r̵e̕͟_"

"_Ẁ̵̢̛a̢͟҉̶̸k͘͟͠ę͞ ̸̴̨́u̧̢̧̧͘p̸̸͘͞_"

Where were those voices coming from? You darted your head around, looking for any imposter there, but all you see is the growing darkness. Shrugging to yourself, you simply look back to the scenery, brushing the voices away.

"_Say - why are ya eyes gorged out?_" You ask it as if it were a normal thing - something he's had for years and you'd finally plucked up enough courage to ask him. You hear him chuckle, and again see him move, hands returning to clutching the sides of the wood.

"_Medic did this to me,_" he replies with little interest, and you notice that his voice turn a little...dark. "_he got a scalpel when I was knocked out and took 'em. I can still see fine, though - not sure how that works, but at least I can see._" You look over at him, and he's now standing up, still casting his gaze to the scenery. More blood was splashed on his face, and his hands were balled to tight fists. "_But every time I go somewhere, everyone stares at me, and they laugh at me, and call me names. They call me 'Scar-Eyes', you know?_" He snapped his gaze to you, and this time around his eyes gave you the creeps. "_I'm freaking you out, aren't I?_"

"_Don't be mad - a man such as me is not scared by the smallest of things!_" You were, but as if you'd admit it. You were scared of what he was going to do - was he going to lash out? You just didn't know. He nods a little in thought before a smile glues to his face. He looks from you, to over the edge of the deck, then back to you. You see the wheel turning in his head, and that smile just grows.

"_I've always wanted to fly._"

"_R̶u̡n̶_"

"_Ỳ̴̨o҉͢u'r̡̨̕é҉ ́͢t̷͜r͝a̵͜͟p͞p̴̛̀é̴̀d̶̴̶_"

"_Y̷̵̧ò̡̀͞u̧̕͝'̸̨r̷e͜͜͜ ̛̕͝͡g̢͟͢ò̧̀͟ì͢n̵̵̡̛͞g̷̨̀͟ ҉͏ţ̸ǫ̸́̕͝ ̸̴͟͢͠d̴͡͏̷i̢͠e̡̨͡_"

Those voices again. You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but suddenly he just stepped in to the empty air, and the next thing you know is that he's plummeting to the ground. With a yelp, you shoot forward, hand outstretched and eyes wide from under your drooping helmet. It's so overwhelming that you have to take it off just to get a better look. For some reason, all you saw below was darkness, but it didn't muffle out the sound. A loud and sickening thump was heard, one that made your heart drop to your stomach. ...What the hell just happened? It had all happened too fast - first a peaceful conversation, now this?

Still trying to wrap your mind around things, you didn't hear foot-steps tread behind you. A hand fell to your shoulder, making you yelp and shoot up to your feet in a panic. As you spun around to face whoever it was with blurry eyes, a silent scream left your dry throat. It felt like you'd just drank sand.

He was there. ...But, didn't he just...fall? You heard that sick thump - you'd seen him jump; the fuck is going on?!

He look dismembered - with the same face as before; but now, at the elbow of his right arm, a piece of bone was sticking out, the arm in an awkward position. His left leg was also twisted back-wards; surly that would mean he would be un-able to walk, let alone stand. Yet here he stood, right in front of you. His war clothes were some-what ripped and stained with blood and mud. Around the back of his neck was where most of the blood was leaking from. You presumed a large and open wound was there, but that wasn't on your mind right now.

"_Ḩe͠y҉͠,̷̡ buddy!_" His voice sounded so broken and hoarse yet still had that exact same accent; it just sent more chills to slither down your spine. "_Have I ever told yo͠҉ú̢̕ ̛́͟h̛ow̷̕͢ ̸a͏͟w҉e̷ś͢o͢ḿ͞e̷ ͟f̕l͞y҉̧i̡n͏̨'̧͡ ͜i̸͜͜s?̴!̨͢ ͡Í̸t͞҉'̸s̕ ͞a̧͡m͏͏azin'!_" You felt the hand on your shoulder tighten in grip, and you see that smile full of sharp bloodied teeth grow further across his stained face. There was nothing you could do but stand there and watch him, panting for breath that wasn't there. "_Hey, I got a great idea - I ̸c͟a̷n͜ ͡sho̢w̕ ̷y̡a w͜h̵at̢ it̷'s ļ̀i̧̛̕͘͟k̷͜͟͞҉ę̵̢̨͜!̸_"

He placed both hands on your shoulders, and with a crackling laughter, he managed to push you over the edge-

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><p>He shot out of bed, a short war-cry and a motion of chopping hands seen from the waking man. After a few moments to gather his thoughts and surroundings, he was calm, with a deep shaky breath to steady his nerves. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sighed a little. A nightmare, huh? He hadn't had one of those since hearing about the end of World War II.<p>

He wiped his head with the back of his hand and laid back down in his cool bed again. When he looked at his alarm, the numbers read 5:46am. Eh, it was cease-fire, today. No point getting up. This would be his first lay-in for the first time ever since working at Teu_Fort. Everyone deserved it for their tremendous performance on the field the past week, so he didn't mind too much.

Shaking his head clean of the fresh nightmare, he closed his eyes, and was soon away with the fairies once more.

When he awoke again, it was 1:46pm. It shocked him that he'd managed to sleep for so long and not have any dreams at all - especially that same one from before. He just thanked Sun Tzu, got out of bed, got ready and headed to the kitchen.

The day went as normal as a day at Teu_Fort went; Heavy accidentally burned a Sandvich, Pyro some-how managed to set a bird un-fire, Engineer was in his work-shop all day and Spy was getting deeper into lung cancer. But he didn't see any sign of Scout.

As the night came, the American Eagle headed to the Snipers deck. It showed a nice scene of the sun setting behind the far-off mountains, and he liked going there to watch the sky change colour. When he got there, however, he saw him sitting at the edge, swinging his legs in the air, bandaged hands clutching at the wood. He heard no voices this time, but that didn't calm him down any more.

The very first thing that came to Soldiers mind was his gorged out and bleeding eyes. With an alarmed mind, he dashed over to the Boston, ready to take necessary action.

'...Oh, hey, budd- h-HEY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!'

'I am getting you away from here!'

'THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN' ABOUT - LET GO'A ME!'

The Scout was sent into a fit of flying limbs as Soldier wrapped his arms around his waist, dragged him to his feet and then pulled him away from the edge. As soon as he was a safe distance from it, Soldier released the kid from the hold and glued himself to the wall. If anything, he looked crazy. 'Soldier, what the fuck are you playin' at?! I coulda falled!' He looked normal - his eyes were still in place, no sticking out bones or twisted limbs, no blood. He was as normal as a Scout got.

'I... Do not sit that close to the edge, private! What happens if you do fall? You could break your arm!' The look Scout gave him was priceless - it was a cross of "are you serious" and "what the fuck are you on". Still no voices were heard muttering around them. It just made the American Eagle feel stupid.

'Dude, it's only a six-foot drop. Don't forget 'a can double-jump at the last second, too, so I think that'll save me from the fall. ...The fuck's up with you?' From behind him, Soldier saw the changing colours go from red, yellow and orange, to blue, black and white. It was his cue to leave before he made things more awkward; he could already feel his cheeks heating up, and he was so glad he was wearing his helmet. He didn't know why he'd just done that. Maybe it was the shock of the nightmare. If so, he really needed to go see the Medic - he didn't want to turn soft.

'Yes, well...i-it was a warning! Don't want no broken team-mates, now, do we?!' With that, he dashed off, dragging his dignity with him. From behind him he heard the Scout call 'I think you're the broken one!'


	8. Sniper

You were in your snug camper van, with a bottle of beer in one hand and a random book you'd picked up with little interest in the other. You weren't sure what it was, but you were still reading it anyway. A sudden cold draft hit you, and the next thing you know, he's in with you, plonking himself on the bolted down couch opposite you. The warmth slowly refills the van over-time, and as you both nod your greetings to one another, you both stay deathly quiet. The gentle hum from the vans heater was the only thing to fill in the meek silence.

"_I called my Ma, today,_" He spoke slowly, his voice sounding hoarse, like he hadn't slept in a long while and was quite ill. You tilt your head up, eyes blocked off by your piss coloured shades. He looked sad, now that you had a proper look at the kid. "S_he sounded sick; she was coughin' n she had to stop every few minuets to catch 'er breath._"

"_That sounds bad,_" Was all you said, dropping your book some. He nodded in agreement. "_The best thing is that I can't fly over to see if she's alright._"

"_It 'appens._" Again with the silence. You bring your book up and drink from your beer - you hadn't even offered him one, but you supposed it didn't matter. If he wanted one he'd had asked by now. The silence remained for a good while, and everything seemed to rush ahead of time.

"_Ge̸͏ţ ̷o̕u̡͜t̵ ͞of͟ ͘͝ţh̵͡e̢̕͞r̛͜ȩ_" A voice suddenly snapped, sounding right behind you. It made you jump and your head to spin around, seeing nothing but the metal wall of the van. From across, he tilted his head in confusion, a brow raised as he watched you with curious eyes. "_You alright?_" He asked. "_...Y-yeah, did you 'ear that?_" He shakes his head as you look over to him. You were sure you heard a voice, but there was nothing to be seen. Probably someone playing a trick on you. It was probably the Spy or something - he was always up to no good, that Spook was.

"_Yo, Snipes?_" He called, sounding worried. You hum in acknowledgement, not looking up from the book this time. "_Is she gonna be alright?_"

"_She'll be fo'ine._" You assure.

"_...You're lying to me..._" He replies darkly.

"_...Wot?_"

That made you look up. But he wasn't there any more. He had changed so quickly - from a Boston boy to whatever-the-hell this was. Sitting there was what looked to be the spawn of a demon from hell. His eyes were blood-shot red, nails and teeth as sharp as daggers. He was panting, mouth wide open, red saliva dripping down. A forked green tongue shot out and lapped at its teeth, and it was staring at you. "_...K-kid...?_"

"_Y̧̨͝O̴͘U҉̸̸̀̕'̡͘͢͠R̴҉E̛͏͞ ͏̡̀Ļ̧Y͞͠I̷̷̕͞͞N̵̨͟͡G̵̢̀͘͞ ̷͢͜T́͜O̧͡ ̵̧M̷̶̛͞E͟͠҉̨͢.̸̴́̀_" It bellowed again, its voice denomic. It sounded like he was talking through a radio. You dropped your book and beer to the floor, keeping your eyes on this thing as it slowly stands to a stance, hands out by its side. You noticed a forked tail was swishing angrily behind it, as well as spikes that had formed on its back, ripping its red shirt open. "_ẀH̷Y̴ ̶́͠A͜R̕͜E̴ ̨YƠ̵̕U͡ ́LY̸Ì͝N̕͟G̛͘͢?͟͡_" The voice was what sent shivers down your spine, your hairs to stand on end, for you to lose your breath. What had happened to him? Why hadn't you seen or heard anything? Was it going to attack you? It looked like it was. The door was right beside it, and the window behind it. There was no way you could escape.

It lets out a tremendous roar and launches forward, but you some-how managed to duck to your right side and avoid the slash of claws coming at your head. Your shades flew off your head and landed on the floor with a soft _clunk_, but you weren't bothered by them anymore. You scramble over to the door and kick it open, then run outside. What awaits you is a black and red melting world, but that's not in your interest - you don't even notice it in your blurred vision. What is in your mind is getting away from whatever the fuck was chasing you. From behind, you hear its roar again, and then the thunderer's foot-steps of it crashing closer to you. You can already tell it's going to catch up to you fast.

You suddenly feel a weapon appear behind you, as if strapped on to you. With quick reflexes, you draw your hand back and latch on to the handle. You pull it free from its invisible binds and turn around to face the monster right in its red eyes. It's right on you, now, and you quickly swing at it, landing a shot on its right arm. A slice right near its shoulder. It lets out an ear-shattering scream as fresh blood leaks from the open wound, the tail behind it swishing with great intensity. You step back as it lunches forward, slashing at you with a claw-filled hand that you just managed to dodge, and you swing at it again. This time, your shot misses.

As you look in to its eyes, you see something different. It looked...hurt. Was that hurt? That one moment you were distracted in was an advantage to it, as it hit your BushWacka out of your hand, it landing with a harsh clang on the floor. It topples you over by bouncing up, placing its feet on your shoulders and pushing you down, and you land in the dirt hard. All of the wind is knocked out of your chest, your mouth in an 'O' shape. Its right in your face, now, its sharp teeth baring, and you hear another scream escape its lungs. It brings a hand up above its head, and in a quick flash, it brings it down with such a force-

* * *

><p>A small yelp left the Aussie as he rolled out of his small bed, landing on his cluttered floor with a bump. The panic instantly subsided, and what filled him was a deep annoyance. The sun-light being one problem, while him being on the floor was the other. And, of course, what the bloody hell that nightmare was all about.<p>

It was his first one in a good few months. That he didn't mind, he just didn't understand why it was of him. But he just shuck his head and climbed to his feet, brushing his white shirt off, a loud sigh leaving him. As he looked at his clock on the bolted down table that he had just missed while rolling off the bed, the time read 5:46am. What a stupid time to wake up - not even Solider was up at this time. But he didn't feel like going back to sleep. He needed coffee. It was far too early for beer, yet. Plus he needed to stay sharp when using his rifle. A drunk Sniper was never a good one.

After pouring himself a hot cuppa, he simply grabbed a magazine from under the table and plonked down in his seat. He opened it up on a random page, and with disinterested eyes, he scanned what the words spelt out. After a few minuets of idly sipping from his coffee, he heard his camper door being opened. But Sniper didn't bother to look up. It was probably Spy to cause him trouble - course he'd be confused about why the bushman was up so early.

He felt a presence sit on the other side of him, yet he still didn't cast his eyes up. For a long while, the two of them sat in silence, Sniper still reading from the magazine and sipping at his drink.

'Hey, uh, Snipes?' Said a quiet Boston voice, one that nearly made him drop his hot drink. His attention was fully grasped as he snapped his gaze up to the young man. He instantly saw a cut on his right arm, just below where his red shirt was rolled up, and that nightmare flashes in his head. He slashed at him, there. 'Can I tell-'

'Where did ya get that cut from?'

'...Oh, me n Solly were fightin' in the kitchen. He got me pretty hard.' Scout looked over at the cut himself, which was devilishly red. Sniper assumed it had already clotted, but that wasn't the point. 'Anyway, I...I called my Ma up, taday.' Yet more images of the nightmare flashed in his mind, making him tense up. He kept his eyes on the boy, wide and panic-filled. It was a good thing Scout was looking at the floor - he could have caught the panic off him. 'She...she sounded sick, man. Like, she was coughin' n shit like that.' He also expected to hear a voice from somewhere warn him, but it never came after a full minuets wait. 'She was stoppin' every few minuets to catch 'er breath, too.' What could he say? If he said anything, would he turn? Would he get chased again?

'...Oh. S-sorry ta hear that, mate.' The bushmans eyes never left the boy, because the last time he lost eye-contact, he was different.

'I can't even fly over there ta see if she's alright, man.' He sounded so broken, but that still didn't ease his nerves. He could change at any moment, and he could chase him and rip him apart if he wasn't careful. But then he had to remember - that was a dream. It couldn't become real, right? That was stupid. He needed to go and see Medic about this. Scout finally looked up at Sniper, who was just staring at him blankly. '...Sniper?' He waved his bandaged hand in front of him, who blinked and shuck his head from the daze.

'Oh...s-sorry, mate, oI...' He stuttered, staring from the magazine still glued to his hand to the boy then back to the magazine. 'Look, s-she'll get betta', don't you worry none. We don't want ya strugglin' on the field, eh? Now piss off, ya w-wanka', n let me get ready.'

'You sure you're alright? You've gone pale-'

Both of them stood up, and as Sniper placed his drink on the cabinet, he went to push the Boston out of his camper. 'oI'm fo'ine, nah get back to tha' base n start causin' trouble somewhere.' He was out of the door in no time, and before the Boston bunny could turn around to ask what his deal was, Sniper closed the door snuggly shut behind him.

'...Uh, okay, then! I guess I'll see ya at the base!' He heard his little feet patter against the dirt, and he wondered if he was going to crash in to your door in a minuet. But he shuck his head once again. It was only a dream. Dreams don't and couldn't ever come true.

...Right?


	9. Scout

You were walking on pink clouds. From below, you saw nothing but bright blue and more fluffy pink clouds floating idly along. They looked like little sheep to you, and that made you giggle. Soon you drop down from one cloud to another just below, and you feel the soft breeze rush past you. It was so damn colourful - the sky above were colours of pink and yellow and red and blue and purple. It was like it was made of candy or some shit.

Suddenly, a bunny burst out from the cloud you were standing on, a happy smile on his stitched face. A few puff clouds float away from where he had popped out of. He has black buttons as eyes, long pink ears with a white patch running up their middle, and a patch of a lighter shade of pink on the top right of his head. He looks at you, his pink arm raising, a white circle at the end of his stitched paw, and he seems to wave it at you, as if asking you to follow him. He ducks back down again, making you tilt your head and tip-toe over to where the stuffed bunny once was. You see something bronze coloured heading down-wards, and you don't hesitate to jump in. Immediately, you're sent sliding down, even going so far as to do a spin in the narrow metal.

You land on what appears to be green and yellow fluff balls, all bundled in a group. You see the back of the plush bunny again, with a large white puffy tail and a very large black stitch stretching up his back, heading over to a table outside of the fluff zone. You see him grab something off the table, and it looks to be a weapon. He turns to face you, a smile still on his face, and waves his free arm at you again. As you climb out of the fluff zone, you see a metal gate in front of the table, leading to darkness. A brow was raised, but it instantly fell again as the bunny handed you a pink coloured shot-gun and a box of shells. You take the shell-box and whistle - that's one hell of a lot of shells.

You look back to the bunny, seeing a circle of a light shade of white on his tummy. He, too, is holding a shot-gun, a box of his own shells balanced on his head between his fluffy ears.

"_Wanna have some fun?_" He asks, voice light like he's a small child.

"_Hell yeah I do!_" You woop back.

The gate suddenly floats off into the sky, and the darkness fades away. From the other side, you see a horde of zombies waddle over to you, and you feel your grin grow wider and wider. It was so stupid how they had a kid-like background behind them - one consisting of different coloured ponies and teddy bears. The sky was pink and yellow, the stuffed coloured animals moving and laughing in a continuous animation behind the un-dead. It just made you laugh as you loaded the shot-gun up and took aim. It was too bad the zombies weren't as child-friendly as the background was.

You took fire, a green mist floating from the guns barrel, and the first un-dead fell to the floor, now un-moving. Red didn't leak out of him, no - blue did. It looked like ink. The bunny took fire straight after you, downing two more in a heat-beat, and as you look over to your new pink stuffed friend, you see him reload the gun using magic, it seemed. The shells flew from the box balanced on his head and in to the shot-gun in a green silk-like thing encased around the shells with ease, and he downed another zombie as soon as he reloaded. He wasn't having all the fun.

After blasting through a horde of the things, the pair of you finally break through to another colourful paradise. This time, the clouds were yellow. And they weren't clouds - upon closer inspection, they were floating sheep. They looked so damn happy, and as they bleated, you giggled. The shot-guns and shells had vanished, but they weren't in your field of interest anymore. The floor you stood on was green, the sky purple. The bunny stood beside you, happy as can be-

* * *

><p>He awoke suddenly thanks to something on his bed-side table suddenly falling to the floor, it landing with a harsh clunk on the thinly carpeted wood. After taking a moment of quietness in, he sighed and groaned heavily. That was such an awesome dream - why did it have to end there?!<p>

He snapped out of bed, eyes droopy and hair a fluffy mess. He looked over to his table to notice the window open, and then feel the chill bite at his bare skin. He wasn't wearing a shirt - last night had been too warm to wear one. He shuddered at the feeling and wrapped the blanket closer to his half-naked form, his buck-teeth chattering some. After wrapping himself up, he moved his gaze to the floor to notice an empty can of _BONK! _ resting on the floor. He really needed to clean up more. As he looked over to his left side, he saw his beloved pink plush bunny resting on the pillow, and a smile forms on his face. He was glad of the fun they'd had.

Rubbing at his eyes, the Boston quickly shot out of bed and closed his window. He grabbed a random red shirt from the end of his bed, making quick hast to shove it on, and then grabbed the newly shipped out hoodie he'd received, making sure to leave the hoodie up. It was still dirty - he'd forgotten to take it to the wash, but at the moment he didn't care about its cleanliness. After binning the _BONK!_, he noticed the time read 5:46am. Huh. He'd managed to wake up at the same time, about, all week. This was his first dream in that week, though.

He headed on out, walking down the hallway and stuffing his unbandaged hands in his pockets, tummy rumbling for its feed. He was thinking...pancakes. Yeah. They sounded good.

As he headed inside the kitchen, he saw the whole team inside there, looking tired. Every single one of them, he noticed, had what looked to be heavy bags under their eyes and dark circles to decorate around them. It was like they were a band of raccoon's. As soon as he walked inside, everyone clapped eyes on the youth, and he noticed fear spark in them. Now that was annoying him - all week they'd been acting weird around him, one after the other, and now everyone had simultaneously welled up with fear. Was this a joke of there's? It really wasn't funny anymore.

'The fuck is up with your guys...?' He wanted it to sound more intimidating, but the time of day just wouldn't allow it. It came out more of a yawn than a real functioning voice. They all jumped a little, and hesitated.

'Is nothing.' Heavy quickly said, looking to the floor.

'Ay - w-what he said.' Demo also said.

'...All...righty then? Whatever - mm tired n need food.' They nodded quickly at his response, watching with panicked eyes as he walked over to the fridge to retrieve food. It was just a sandvich he had made yesterday. He wasn't arsed for making anything fancy anymore. 'See you losers later.' And he was out again, still feeling the teams eyes on his back.

He wondered if he should knock some sense into their heads. He hated it when people stared at him - they knew that. What the fuck was their problem, now?

He chuckled to himself and took a bite of his food, the cold licking at his clothed back some. Ah, well, he thought. Sleep is more important - they should try it some time.


	10. die

_**and this is the last chapter in this thing! thank you so much to everyone who read this, and did all that stuff with the following as well! have an awesome day!**_

* * *

><p>Everyone had avoided him. Every single person on the RED side of the base avoided one person thanks to their mind's cruel work. They all saw him as one big, breathing monster, who was ready to snap at any given moment and attack them. At the wrong words, at the wrong actions, anything could make him turn into a psycho. So what better way to stop it than avoid him all together?<p>

Even when out on the field, they avoided the youth as much as their power would allow them. Their mind had given them enough warnings for it not to fall on deaf ears.

He had grown lonely and a lot more quieter over the coming weeks. What interaction he tried to make with the others was ignored. It was like his existence there had completely vanished. No one ever listened to him, everyone blocked him out, no one ever said "good morning" to him anymore. All he saw were scared faces - faces that turned petrified, panicked and worried, their face turning pale. They were a lot quieter around him, yet around everyone else they were fine - they were their usual loud and chatter-box self's. What had he done to deserve this?

They'd also lost sleep by the looks of it, too. If they wanted, they could join a band of raccoon's and fit in perfectly. They were also lacking out on the field - there movements were restricted, and they were loosing a lot more rounds lately, too. Was this because of their lost sleep? It had to be.

Insanity did things to people. Their own mind tricks them into a world that doesn't exist, a world where everything is horrible and dark and twisted. They told them lies of good-natured people, showed them horrible, horrible convincing lies in their own head of people who would never do such things; could never do such things to other people. Lies that made them turn against a person. It was all in their head. The more it occurred, the more they believed. The more they believed, the more worries formed. Was that person going to get them? Kill them? They shouldn't let that person do that - they shouldn't give them a chance to. They should kill that person first, and teach him a lesson for ever thinking to do such a thing against them.

The voices - they whispered to them, you see. They told them the truth; they would never lie. Why would they? They always told the truth. They always showed it, too. He was against them. He was trying to get them. But they couldn't allow that to happen. They had to get him first. Get him before he got them. He was sick. Not them. He was. He was sick. He was sick.

He was now never safe around the people he once knew. They'd tried to kill him one or two times - he had to flee outside and sleep in the barn just a few feet away to get away from the rest of them. Every single person was out for his blood. Pyro with its axe, Sniper with his Bushwacka, Medic with his bone-saw. They looked crazy. They acted it. What had he done to deserve this? He was no monster. He wasn't the things he'd heard them say. A "_monster_", a "_crazy person_". And he certainly wasn't going to die by the hands of the men he'd served with for all these months. How could he convince a bunch of people who'd lost their minds he was in the good without losing his own head? He didn't want to fight them, to make the situation worse, but he would if he really had to.

He'd lost so much sleep by keeping on his toes the past few nights, developing his own bags and rings under and around his eyes. He didn't run as fast as he used to, but he was always alert, especially when around the others in close contact. He noticed the scared stares turn to cold-hard and death-wishing glares, all aimed at him. If he had lost his memory, he would have thought he'd killed someone out of re-spawn bounds. The looks made him shiver and rush out of the area, back to the comfort of his own room.

The BLU team knew they were slipping up, could see they were all losing the plot. This only made their attacks dampen, not increase their strength. For some odd reason, they went softer against the troubled RED's.

He was alone. He was surrounded by a bunch of crazy people all wanting to get him killed. And there was no way out. For miles on end stretched sand, with no sense of relief. But then he remembered - there was a town 20 or so miles away. And the next ship-in was next week, which would include food, water, gas for Snipers van and the such. He could loot all that and make his escape - he just needed to survive until then. He's done so, before. This shouldn't be any different.

They had gotten stronger, attacking at times the boy was defenseless - going to the bathroom, eating, even in the showers or out on the field. This time they were muttering something about "_sickness_" and "_he's sick, not us_", all the while advancing forward with sharp weapons in toe. Luckily it wasn't the whole base at once to attack, just two or three which were easy to fend off when in open spaces. They couldn't seem to grasp why he escaped so quickly, which was lucky for him. He would laugh at their stupidity if it wasn't for the situation.

He managed to survive until the drop-off arrived. Sure, he'd sustained a few deep cuts and bruises from a few close calls, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had everything planned out - where the drop-off was, where to collect everything and stash it, and where to dash. He wouldn't fill the vans gas up at first - he'd drive a bit and then refill it as he went along. He'd only ever driven twice, too, but from his experience vans weren't that hard to drive. He knew the difference between peddles, making it easier for him to make his escape.

Everything thankfully went to plan. He'd grabbed the gas and some bits of food before bolting to the van, where he was chased by all the RED's at once this time, not just two or three. The way they all swarmed the van in a last minuet attack reminded the BLU of the way zombies circled their prey, just making a shiver crawl up his spine. They'd attacked by diving their weapons into the vans metal, causing him to yelp and hurry with starting the thing up. Sniper always kept the keys inside, making the task that much easier. The van growled and spluttered to life, and he pressed a foot down on the pedal hard. He did do his best to avoid hitting them, but it was their fault they ran into a moving van. He drove like there was no tomorrow, the base fading in his rear-view mirror.

He arrived in Boston safe and sound no more than four hours later. He managed to, regretfully, steal some money from the town he entered. It was early and the shops were shut, and he was too fast for the police, anyway. His Ma was happy to see him home so early but also shocked, and as he explained everything her face just grew in concern. He soon managed to get a job back in Boston within a few weeks; a healthy one, where the pay was decent and the people there were nice. And they didn't try to kill him.

Back at the RED base, however, it was empty, red, and bloody. Guns laid everywhere, sharp weapons embedded in some peoples heads and stomachs; brain matter was smothered on the walls as if it were paint; guts and intestines decorated the floor pretending to be a carpet. Blood was splashed on the walls, gorged out eyes and tongues were no where to be seen, chunks of people missing like someone had bit out their flesh in a mad rage. It was like a bomb had just been set off. The doctors said it was due to insanity. They'd just suddenly snapped, their mind locking on to one host within the base walls and making them believe he wasn't of this world, that he was out to get them. It was lucky that he had managed to escape when he did, or the attacks would have grown worse and worse and in bigger quantities of damage. He would have been dead in the next few days.

Nine new RED recruits were supplied to the base a week later, with no news or knowledge of this information, only seeing the grave-stones with the classes names and birth-dates scratched out on the stone. Of course, the BLU's knew everything of what had happened, as had the old RED Scout, but there was nothing to be done now other than pay their condolences to the lost ones. Their bodies had been cleaned out, the walls and floor redone to hide the misery away. A simple letter was sent to each of the classes home's explaining the ordeal. They were buried some way away from the base; they said it was too expensive to fly their bodies back home. The site was lonely, eight cold grave-stones now in sight whenever a RED or BLU looked out of their mirror. It made the place feel like a haunted mansion of some sort. It definitely made the air feel more chilly. They all prayed that the same thing didn't happen to them in due time, either.

It had all happened so quickly.


End file.
